Chapter 5 - The Blue-Faced Watch
The Moretti estate in Weston sat behind twenty-foot iron gates and dense rows of ancient oak trees, resembling a European fortress more than a suburban home.
Inside the grand kitchen, sunlight poured through stained-glass windows onto marble countertops. Mila sat on a tall stool, wearing a soft gray cashmere sweater, her dark curls brushed and shining. On the plate before her sat a grilled cheese sandwich, cut into precise triangles, with the crusts neatly trimmed.
Josie sat beside her, sipping black coffee.
“Is it crispy enough?” Josie asked softly.
Mila took a small bite, chewed slowly, and gave a solemn nod. It was the first time Josie had seen the little girl eat without looking over her shoulder.
The kitchen door swung open, and Dante walked in, carrying an encrypted satellite phone in one hand and a thick file folder in the other. He looked tired; the lines around his eyes were deeper than they had been the night before.
“We have a location,” Dante said, tossing the file onto the marble island.
Josie looked down at the photographs inside. They showed an abandoned shipping warehouse in South Boston, surrounded by unmarked black SUVs.
“Arthur?” she asked.
“Arthur,” Dante confirmed. “He knows I intercepted his financial records from the Cayman accounts he used to siphon syndicate funds. He thinks he can hold the harbor shipping lanes hostage until I hand over operational control.”
Dante walked over to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes fixed on Mila. The little girl looked up from her plate, her dark eyes meeting her father's.
“Mila,” Dante said, his voice softening in a way that made him sound less like a feared syndicate boss and more like a broken man trying to mend. “The bad man who wore the blue watch... he’s going away for a very long time today. Do you understand?”
Mila slid off her stool, walked over to Dante, and wrapped her small arms around his leg.
Dante froze, stunned by the gesture. Slowly, he knelt down and scooped his daughter into his arms, burying his face in her dark curls. For a long moment, the dangerous world outside ceased to exist.
Then, Dante stood up, handing Mila back to Josie.
“Lock the doors,” Dante told Josie, his expression hardening back into steel. “Luca and his team will stay here. If I’m not back by four o’clock, open the wall safe in my study. The plane tickets to Zurich are inside.”
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Josie grabbed his wrist before he could turn away. “You’re walking into a trap.”
“It’s only a trap if you don't know it’s there,” Dante said, pulling free and walking out the door.
